


Sorrow and Bliss

by darlathecyborgpluviophile



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Chronic Pain, Depression, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Nightmares, Noctis Lives AU, Promptis Week 2017, Referenced PTSD, Secret Relationship, Third Person POV, Tooth Rotting Fluff, chapter 13 spoilers, referenced trauma recovery, sap, so much sap, spoonie!Noctis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 00:01:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16862473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlathecyborgpluviophile/pseuds/darlathecyborgpluviophile
Summary: A collection of my work from Promptis Week 2017.Days 1 & 2: the moment they knew it was love/bed sharingDay 3: late night conversationsDay 4: good enoughDay 5: getting caughtDay 6: desperationDay 7: alternate universe (noctis lives)





	1. An Interlude Too Late

**Author's Note:**

> So because tumblr's gone apeshit and I'm closing my blog, I'll be backing up a lot of my old and unposted work here in the next week or so. I'll space it out somewhat though, so I don't flood anyone's inboxes.
> 
> While I'm still proud of these works, please understand that they are more than a year old as of this archiving and that I wrote each of these in a single day to meet the prompt deadline. As such, they are not my best work nor representative of my writing today.
> 
> With that out of the way, enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 12 September 2017.

Prompto jerks awake, flying upright from the cot, arms flailing everywhere, gasping loudly. His hands somehow find one of the poles of his bunkbed and latch onto it as he blinks and works on clearing his vision. 

There’s sudden movement beside him and he yelps, finding Noctis out of his bed. Red magic crawls up his arm and face, ring adorned fist pointed Prompto’s way until he snaps himself out of it.

“Oh, Gods, Prompto,” he says, and backs off. Prompto focuses on his facial expression as it melts from anger to exhaustion, and the streams of red dissipate. Noctis falls down onto his bunk. “Are you okay?”

Prompto blinks a few more times, struggling to wake up fully, to focus enough to breathe in and calm his pounding heart. But everything’s too much; the lingering realism of the nightmare, the now-familiar outline of Zegnautus Keep all around them, of Noctis nearly sending him into the void. He grips the pole harder, struggling to breathe. 

“Oh Gods. Jeez. Hey,” Noctis says, and switches from sitting on his bunk to Prompto’s. “Hey." 

There’s a moment of hesitation where it’s clear Noctis has no clue what to do. His hands hover awkwardly above Prompto’s shoulders, before he notices him practically strangling the pole in front of him and reaches for his hands instead. If Prompto’s surprised by the contact he doesn’t show it; he instead lets his hands be taken by Noctis’s and simply held in his own lap. He’s still hyperventilating.

"Hey, uh…Prompto.”

No response, just more harsh breathing. Noctis squeezes his hands tighter and notices that Prompto’s wristband is still off, probably lost by the throne room somewhere. Noctis is proud that he feels he doesn’t need it anymore. 

“Prompto.”

Prompto squeezes his eyes completely shut for a minute and then opens them again, turning to look directly at Noctis. 

“What-what’s up?”

“Well, you, uh, had a nightmare.”

His eyes leave Noctis’s face again. 

“I did.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

Noctis gives Prompto’s hands another reassuring squeeze.

“You’re safe now.”

“No.”

The response is immediate and in a second words are tumbling, one after the other, out of Prompto’s mouth.

“No, no, I’m not. We’re still here and he’s still here, and, Six almighty, Noct, he’s been here the whole time, in the snow, at that haven, in those bases, he could easily appear here right now and I-I-I, well, I mean, I have  _my_  gun back, so that’s nice, and-”

“And we’re here.”

“-and you’re here, but still, he could just…he could…”

“Prompto.”

Prompto lets out a sound like a sob, before regaining some of his composure and belatedly squeezing Noctis’s hands back. 

“I’m fine.”

“Oh,  _that’s_  bullshit.”

Prompto winces a little. Noctis softens his posture and his tone.

“Really, though. You’re safe now. We’re all armed again, you seem to be in decent fighting condition despite your….ah…”

He steers away from that topic. 

“…I’m not letting you out of my sight again.”

“Noct, he could trick y-”

“I’ll pay more attention this time. Really. It’s okay.”

Noctis starts rubbing a thumb over his right hand. They sit like that while Prompto controls his breathing, and eventually responds with a simple, “Okay.”

Noctis wants to lean his head against his shoulder but doesn’t, out of fear of pressing one of Prompto’s injuries. Prompto, however, seems to pick up on the impulse somehow and instead leans his.

“I was back in that machine, in the dream.”

“The Y looking thing?”

“Yeah. Ardyn was there too.”

Noctis can’t find the words he wants to say. 

“I’m…sorry,” he chokes out.

Prompto has nothing to say to that, instead responding with a hoarse laugh. “I’m alright now, like you said. Safe." 

"Prompto, when you were gone, I was…really…”

He trails off. Prompto makes no attempt to hurry him, and soon enough he starts again. 

“I was really scared.”

“I appreciate that, buddy, but you didn’t need to be. I handled myself pretty well out there, apart from the last stretch.”

“Yeah, but…listen.”

Prompto does.

“I was so worried. I could barely sleep. Between Dad, and Luna, and you…and that it was all my fault…I just…”

Noctis growls in frustration and lets go of Prompto’s hands, instead rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes. 

“Fuck. What am I even saying?”

He sits on Prompto’s bed more, pulling both legs up onto the thin mattress and sitting cross legged. His dark eyes meet Prompto’s sky blue ones, and for a moment he only stares.

“Prompto. I care about you. So much.”

He purses his lips together, as if he’s afraid of what else might come out. Prompto, meanwhile, feels his mouth hang open ever so slightly. 

“Are you saying…?”

“Yeah,” Noctis says, breaking eye contact. “I am.” He pulls his knees up to his chest, and turns his head completely away. 

Prompto stares at the side of his head. In an instant he’s pulling Noctis’s face gently back towards him and pressing a chaste, childlike kiss to his lips. Now it’s Noctis’s turn to gape, but it doesn’t last long as he practically launches himself at Prompto, kissing hard. He wraps his arms around him, forgetting about the bruises and the cuts and the circumstances, and they both fall back onto the mattress. 

“Wow. Okay,” Prompto says when they break apart, “besides the torture, I think this is pretty much the best day of my life.”

Noctis winces, but then laughs a little. Prompto joins in, but his is shakier. He runs a hand through his disheveled blond spikes. 

“I think I had the same realization, actually. Not that I didn’t already feel this way, cause, I mean, I did, but just…I wasn’t kidding when I said that hearing your voice again was what kept me alive while Ardyn had me.” He grabs ahold of Noctis’s sleeves and curls his fingers into the worn fabric, expression souring.

“Hey,” Noctis says for about the billionth time that night, “You’re safe, remember? We’ve got you.”

Prompto sweeps his eyes up and down the Prince straddling his hips. “Uh, I think  _you_  got me, right now.”

Noctis laughs again, a relieved thing. He climbs off Prompto and the blond moves aside so that there’s at least a little room for both of them on the bunk. Noctis wraps his arms around Prompto oh-so-gently, as to avoid irritating any injured areas, and pulls him under his chin. Prompto wraps around him similarly, and Noctis only echoes, "I got you.”

Prompto buries himself into Noctis’s shirt, and continues monitoring his breathing. It’s easier, now that he has a specific scent that he can focus on.

“So,” Prompto says, after he feels sufficiently grounded, “What now?”

“Couldn’t say,” Noctis sighs. “The Prophecy, I get this feeling that it’s not going to let me off the hook so easily." 

"What do you mean?”

“I don’t know enough about it. Sorry. Specs might, we can ask him once we’re all up again. But there’s a good chance,” he swallows, “That I might not come out of this alive.”

“And even if you do, you’ve still got that Ring, and all your dad’s responsibilities…" 

"Yeah. Basically…” Noctis whispers.

Prompto kisses his throat, and starts trailing tiny pecks up towards Noctis’s chin. 

“…I don’t think there’s a happy ending for us,” he finishes eventually. 

Prompto doesn’t say anything, but finishes his row of neat kisses and pulls himself closer to Noctis. 

“We’re here now, though." 

He looks up, giving a Noctis wan smile. 

"Despite everything, we’re here. Like you keep saying, we’re here and we’re safe and we’re together. Can we maybe just…” he pauses to bite his lip, “…hold onto that for now? Not worry about stuff like prophecies and death?”

Noctis makes a little choking noise in the back of his throat, overwhelmed by so many emotions he can barely breathe. 

“Yeah. We can.”

He presses a kiss to the crown of Prompto’s head.

“I’m so, so, so glad you came for me,” Prompto says in a thick voice, “Thank you so much.” The last part falters and fails, but Noctis knows what he’s saying anyway. He moves one of his hands from Prompto’s lower back and nestles it in his unwashed hair. He combs through a few times before letting it simply rest there. 

“I love you, Prom.”

“Love you too, Noct.”


	2. (sit) by me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 13 September 2017.

**Smack!**

“Fuck! Fuck, Gods, ow, c’mon, uh– _ahhhhh!_ ”

**Thud!**

Noctis’s ensuing scream echoed throughout the apartment. On the couch not a room away, Prompto startled awake. Before he was fully aware of his surroundings, he found himself rushing towards the Prince’s bedroom.

“Noct!”

He banged his fist on the light colored door, frantic. 

“Are you okay?! What’s going on? Are there assassins involved?”

He heard Noctis groan through the wood. There was a shuffling noise from the inside, and it finally occurred to Prompto once his brain caught up to his body that,  _you see, there was a little bronze knob about waist level, and if you_ turned _it–_

The door opened about two feet into the bedroom. Flicking on the light switch just inside revealed the story of a struggle with the bedding, pillows strewn everywhere, the top sheet haphazard, and Noctis’s duvet still curled around his middle. Noctis himself was curled up tight on the floor, in a nigh fetal position, clutching at his head.

“Woah,” Prompto said, kneeling beside his best friend, “What happened?”

Noctis’s voice was choked, like he was trying to hold back sobs. “I just–my leg hurt so much, and I tried to get up to grab water for my meds, and then I–”

Noctis hissed in pain, and curled up tighter. 

“–I…hit the corner of the dresser, and then slipped on the blanket…” He laughed with only a slight touch of mirth. “Now everything hurts.”

Prompto put a hand to his forehead, and brushed aside the sweat stuck bangs. He took in the situation as he played with Noctis’s hair.

“O…kay.” He blinked a few times, trying to fit all of the information together in his still rebooting mind. “Okay. So…what you’re trying to tell me is that there were no assassins or assailants. At all.”

Noctis laughed again, and it sounded more genuine this time as he said, “Nope. Sadly.” He leaned back on his elbows, trying to maneuver himself into a sitting position. Prompto offered his hand, and helped pull him off of the floor. Once up, Noctis turned gingerly and leaned his back against the side of his bed. “It was just the Crown Prince being an idiot.”

Prompto lightly punched his shoulder, not enough to hurt. “Awww, c’mon, don’t be like that. We’re all idiots when we’re groggy. Where’s your pain meds?”

“On the damn dresser I ran into,” he replied. Even sitting up, Noctis held his head in his hands. “They’re the ones with the blue stripe on ‘em.”

Prompto stood, and made a mental note of where the bottle was. 

“’Kay. I’m gonna get you some water.”

“No, don’t-” he heard Noctis call as he stepped out of the room. He walked back towards the entrance to the apartment, flicked on the lights to the kitchen, and fished a clean cup out of the dishwasher. As the water from the faucet poured into the glass, Prompto caught a glance of the oven clock and moaned a little when he saw the time.

3:56 AM. Godsdamnit, it was a school day today.

Regardless, Noctis was having a bad night, and that was more important to him than any class he could ever take, but the thought still wedged itself into the back of his head and sent a wave of anxiety rushing through him.

Noctis shook his head when he returned to the bedroom.

“Prompto, really, you don’t have to do this. It’s way too late, and you should be back to sleep by now.”

Prompto handed him the water, which after a moment of conflicted emotions Noctis took. Prompto next grabbed the medicine, and placed it in his other hand before sitting down. He shrugged.

“It’s okay. Good thing I missed the train tonight.”

Noctis winced as he swallowed his last pill. “I’m serious. It’s not your fault I’ve got a fucked up knee, or that I hit my head on the floor. You’ve been…”

He paused. Prompto watched him intently, and for a brief moment saw a strange emotion pass over his friend’s eyes before it decided to set up shop and stay there. 

“…nice, actually,” he mumbled in continuation, “Really nice.”

Prompto beamed, and moved closer. 

“So does that mean you’re gonna stop hounding me to go back to sleep?”

Noctis smiled, just a little, and took another sip of his water. “I guess. If…if that’s what you want to do, ‘course. Stay up. With, um…with me.”

Prompto put his hands on the other teen’s shoulders. “Dude. I’d never leave you alone in pain. That’s what being a best friend is, right?”

Noctis was open mouthed, staring at him. If Prompto were more perceptive in his mostly-awake state, he would have noticed a smattering of red cross the Prince’s cheeks. 

“Right. Yeah. As long as you don’t turn into Specs on me.”

Prompto snickered, and turned to sit beside him. He ended up slinging an arm around the hunched boy’s shoulders. 

“Deal.”


	3. Your Father Would Be Proud

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 14 September 2017. [ Inspired heavily by this track off the Rogue One soundtrack.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qemb3iBlp1o)

The closed off area behind the stage was minuscule, no bigger than the smallest walk-in closet used to be in the Citadel. Ignis was already on the other side of the curtains at the podium, delivering a short speech before it was Noctis’s turn to shine. 

The King of Light fidgeted in front of the full length mirror set up there, in the back. He simply couldn’t stop moving; he played with his hair, slicked back with gel, his now clean shaven jaw, the brace at his leg, or where the gaping hole in his chest had been before Luna had revived him and sent him on his way. 

Everyone had made comments about how different he looked, but the truth was it was all unfamiliar to him, too.

Gladiolus poked his head through the curtain that hid the stage from view, eyes searching the room until they lit upon seeing him. 

“Hey. Got about five minutes; Iggy’s buying you some time.”

“Right. Thanks,” Noctis replied. 

“Where’s Prompto?”

“Coming.”

“What, did he get jumpy?”

“A little. He’ll be back soon,” he said, and waved Gladiolus away. 

With the absence of anyone else there, Noctis had half a mind to study himself in the mirror again, but shied away. He instead planted himself on one of the folding chairs lined up against the back curtain, and sat with his hands clasped in front of him. 

“Hey! What’d I miss?”

Prompto bounded back into the teeny room about a minute later. There was much more of a spring in his step than when he had left. Noctis sat up straighter in his chair. 

“Feeling better?”

“Hah, yeah. Just had to, y'know, take some time to let it all settle in.”

Noctis could relate. 

Prompto sat in the chair next to him, silently offering his hand, and Noctis took it. They threaded their fingers together and mutually squeezed. 

“How’re you holding up?” Prompto leaned forward to try and get a better look at Noctis’s face and the shuttered expression it displayed.

Noctis shrugged, and didn’t add anything to supplement it.

“I guess,” Prompto started, just to fill the void, “we never really saw this day coming, did we? There was probably like a…seventy five-twenty five chance you were gonna die, back on the throne. Iggy and I had already started working out how we were gonna deal with you not actually  _being_  there once you got back when-”

Noctis gritted his teeth. “You’re not really helping, Prom.”

“Right, sorry. But hey, the point is,” Prompto moved out of his chair to kneel in front of Noctis, reaching up to put both of his hands on the side of his head, “you’re here. Literally no one expected you to be here, and you’re here. You’re gonna go out there, and you’re gonna outline your plan to rebuild Lucis, and it’s gonna go over well. Super well! Trust me on that.”

Noctis nodded, but followed it with a sigh. Prompto retracted his hands, and moved into more of a crouching position. 

“What’s up? More on your mind?”

Noctis stood up, and stepped back towards the mirror. 

“I don’t know if I can do this,” he admitted, “And not just this press conference thing, but the whole Kingdom on my shoulders…”

His hands clenched into fists at his sides, and he bent his head. Prompto watched.

“Bahumut prepared me for this, but I can’t…I mean, even though it’s been so long, I still feel twenty. When I look at myself, I feel like an imposter.”

He stopped, trying to pull the next sentence from the depths of his brain to his mouth. 

“…I…don’t think I’ll be as good as Dad…was…”

Prompto stood, walked up close behind Noctis, and curled his arms around his middle. He rested his head on Noctis’s shoulder, and looked into the mirror with him. 

“You know what I see, when I look at you here?”

“What?”

“I see someone who’s brave. And strong as hell. And full of a lot of kindness and hope. I see the King who brought the freaking sun back like it was just business as usual.”

Prompto took a breath in, and released it. 

“Someone who even, a long time ago, accepted an ex-Niff test subject into his life, no problem.”

“Prompto…”

“Look, Noct.”

Prompto moved his hands to Noctis’s shoulders, and spun him around so they could face each other. 

“You can do this. You were born to do this. And your dad…well. Your dad would be proud.”

Suddenly, Noctis was pulling him into a crushing hug. He squeezed Prompto tight, rubbing a hand across his shoulder blades. He didn’t need to say anything, because the action itself spoke for so much more than anything he could think of saying. Prompto reciprocated whole-heartedly, and held him as tight and as close as he could. 

Gladiolus climbed through the stage-exit curtain just then, and held an arm out beside him to prevent Ignis from stumbling right into the middle of their embrace. 

“What-”

“Prince Charming’s having a moment.”

Noctis opened his eyes at their voices, and loosened his grip on Prompto for a moment so that he could motion for them to join in.

After the group hug was finished and they broke apart, only Noctis and Prompto remained close enough to touch. 

“You know,” Noctis announced with that signature wry smile in his voice, “I think I’ve picked out the best Prince Consort any Lucian King could ask for.”

Prompto blushed, and put a hand to his face to hide his dopey smile. “Come on, Noct.”

“Prompto’s quite right,” Ignis readjusted his sunglasses, “as touching as this is, you do have a public waiting for you.”

Noctis’s eyes drifted around to each of his friends, and finally back to Prompto.

“You can do it!” he squeaked, giving Noct a double thumbs up.

Gladiolus smirked, and clapped him on the shoulder.

“We’ve got your back.”

“Right.”

Noctis inhaled, nodded, and stepped through the curtain into the late morning light.


	4. Pancakes for Breakfast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 15 September 2017. 
> 
> This is a weird one.

It’s because of Noctis that Ignis thinks it best to go to the apartment on a Saturday. 

He decides this at 5:52 AM the morning of, after nearly a week of concerning text messages, what must be a new world record for “messiest apartment”, and from what else he’s gathered, a string of night terrors the likes of which Noct hasn’t seen since arriving home from Tenebrae, all those years ago.

Ignis swirls the last of his Ebony around in its can, briefly pondering what he can do to gently aid his Prince with his bad week. Then it’s 5:53 AM, he has some ideas, and he’s up to get ready and dressed for his day. 

******

At 7:03, Ignis is ready to ring the doorbell to Noctis’s apartment when he stops to consider.

It’s early. 

It’s a weekend.

Noctis has been suffering from his own unique combination of high anxiety and shadowy depression all week. 

It would probably be best not to startle him.

Instead, Ignis pulls out his key, and as quietly as possible he unlocks the front door and steps in. 

He expects to see two main things when he enters: one, that the place has become a shrine to the very concept of filth itself, like it had been on Wednesday, and two, Noctis himself in the front room, dark bags under his eyes and struggling to hold onto whatever distraction he’s chosen so he doesn’t have to sleep. 

Ignis finds neither of these things. 

In fact, the place is damn near spotless; not as stunning as he’d left it Wednesday evening, but close enough. He spots a few name-brand chip bags in the trash can by the bar and a handful of dirty dishes in the sink, but nothing more. As he slips off his shoes by the door, he pulls a small black book out of the reusable grocery bag he’s brought with him. He flicks it open to the bookmarked page, and with a matching black pen marks “clean” off his to do list for the day. The item just underneath says “cook breakfast”, and unless Noctis’s apartment is suddenly suffering from a brownie infestation, he assumes that’s one thing that hasn’t been done.

Ignis carries the grocery bag into the kitchen, and begins to lay out its contents on the counter: two pints of blueberries, eggs, sugar, baking soda, flour, butter, and the apron he brought from his home. He leans over momentarily to inspect the dishes in the sink, and sees that there are two bowls and a saucepan, all coated with something that looks suspiciously like the potato soup he left on Wednesday. He returns to fold the now empty bag, internally saying the smallest of grateful prayers to the Astrals that Noctis has eaten  _something_  since he saw him last.

With that, Ignis pulls a mixing bowl down from the highest cupboard and starts making blueberry pancakes. This particular recipe is one that he usually saves to spoil Noctis with on special occasions, but considering the rough week that has transpired, he feels that it’s the least he can do to help him feel even the smallest bit better. 

******

It’s 8:15, and Noctis isn’t awake yet. 

On any other morning this would be a usual occurance, but Ignis knows for a fact that nothing wakes Noctis up faster or earlier than the smell of pancakes cooking. The apartment isn’t big, and he’s been at the stove for a little over forty minutes now, so there is no way the scent hasn’t drifted into the bedroom yet. 

Once the last batch is done at 8:40 and Noctis still hasn’t emerged, Ignis decides it’s time to check on him. He turns off the flame under the griddle pan, sets it on an unused burner to cool, and wipes off his hands before exiting the kitchen. 

When he gets to Noctis’s door, he knocks. 

“Noct? Are you there?”

He doesn’t get a response, so he tries again. 

“Are you awake?”

When there’s still no answer, Ignis centers himself, and opens the door to look inside. 

Noctis is lying there, and Noctis is indeed sleeping, but he’s not alone in the bed. 

Tangled up with him is Prompto. 

Noctis is a little bit lower than him, forehead resting just below Prompto’s clavicle. One of Prompto’s arms is wrapped around his middle, with the other poking out from underneath Noctis’s head. Their lower torsos and legs disappear into the blankets and sheets of the bed, with just their feet sticking out at the bottom. Thank the Gods, too, because they’re both missing their shirts, and Ignis doesn’t even want to consider the possibility of much else being uncovered.

Despite the shock of the scene, he recovers quickly. He silently shuts the door behind him, and walks back to the kitchen to consider his next move. 

At 9:00, Ignis is gone.

******

Prompto’s the first one to stumble out of bed, around 10:30, by his phone’s time. He extricates himself from Noctis as gently as possible; Astrals know he needs the uninterrupted sleep. He goes to the dresser by the door to find a spare pair of Noctis’s sweatpants, pulls them on over his boxers, and wanders out of the bedroom and into the rest of the apartment. 

When he makes his way to the small kitchen, Prompto sees it immediately: a dinner plate stacked high with pancakes (blueberry, he thinks), and a folded up piece of paper on top. 

Naturally, the first thing to enter his head is  _oh, shit._ He looks to the shoe box by the door to see if there are any pairs there besides Noctis’s and his own, and when there isn’t, Prompto lets out the breath he had been holding. He steps into the kitchen and picks up the paper on top of the pancakes, carrying it like it could explode at any moment. 

At the couch in the living room, Prompto sits and unfolds the note.

_To whom it may concern,_

_I’m afraid that I might have stumbled into something I shouldn’t have this morning. I am very sorry to both of you for my intrusion._

_To Noctis: I hope you know that we will be having a discussion about this within the next few days, preferably with both His Majesty and Prompto._

Prompto gulps at that. Noctis is not going to be happy about having to attend a political meeting discussing his love life.

_To Prompto: Thank you for being there for Noct. He truly needed it, and you’ve done a great service. However, next time, please rinse out your saucepan; burnt cream can be terribly hard to scrub off._

_I wish you two a good morning, and hope you enjoy the breakfast._

_~Ignis_

“Is…that…pancakes?”

Noctis stumbles zombie-like out of the bedroom just then, sniffing about.  

“Yeah,” calls Prompto, from the couch. Once Noctis sees him, he waves the note around in the air. “And it looks like we were caught.”


	5. Treat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 17 September 2017.

“Noooooooooct,” Prompto whined, “my feet huuuuurt…”

“So go get a stool,” Noctis responded, completely absorbed by the claw machine game in front of him.

“I think they’re all taken…” Prompto stood up straighter to glance around the room. “Yup. Everyone’s got one but me.”

He slumped on the edge of the machine again as the fat chocobo plushie fell out of Noctis’s grip for the sixth time.

“Damn it,” he muttered, and pulled two more tokens out of his pocket to play again. Noctis glared inside at the sea of stuffed animals, and then up to the claw, willing the two to connect the way he wanted them to.

“Look, dude,” Prompto put a hand on Noctis’s shoulder, “I was totally joking about the chocobo. We can go now.”

Noctis shook his head. “I’m getting it.”

Prompto pulled his hand away. “You don’t have to.”

The claw lowered to the previously dropped chocobo. Noctis licked his lips as it closed around the yellow plush, gasped softly as it rose into the air, and groaned when it fell out of his grasp for the now seventh time.

“That’s it,” Prompto threw his hands in the air, “I’m gonna go back to the zombie game. Have fun here, I guess.”

“You can’t.”

Prompto turned back to face Noctis, who was now lowering the claw for the eighth time.

“Um…why?”

“You lent your last two tokens to me, remember?”

“Awwww…yeah…”

Prompto folded his arms and glared as the chocobo fell again, and so close to the chute, too. Noctis took a step back from the machine, rummaging through his pockets.

“I’m out. Do you think the token machine takes cards?”

Prompto planted a hand firmly on his face.

“Oh!” Noctis pulled his phone out of his pants pocket. “Actually, Specs is really good at these. Sometimes he comes here to think about stuff and will play these things for hours and win tons of prizes.”

“Noct…”

Prompto put his hands atop Noctis’s, right before he was able to hit Ignis’s number.

“Dude. This is flattering. Like I said, the fat chocobo is super adorable, and yeah, I’d love to take it home with me. But you know what else I’d love?”

Noctis looked at him like a deer in headlights. “What?”

“Not standing here for hours watching you waste your dad’s money on a claw game.”

Noctis groaned a little, and shifted uncomfortably in his spot. “I don’t think it’s a waste if you want it,” he mumbled.

Suddenly, the situation was too much. They both could feel their cheeks burning as they fumbled their hands away from each other and moved a good foot apart. Noctis tucked his phone away.

Prompto was the first to recover, picking up his school bag from in between the machine and his feet, and beaming brighter than the sun ever could. He threw an arm around Noctis’s shoulders, and maneuvered him towards the exit of the arcade.

“Tell you what,” he said, “since I’m flat out of pocket money, and you so desperately want to treat me…how about a trip to the Crow’s Nest down the street?”

Noctis’s subtle grin could never match Prompto’s brilliant smile, but the way his lips quirked up wryly and exuded a comfortable fondness, it was just as meaningful.

“Sounds like a good runner up.”


	6. retreating in covers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted 17 September 2017.

Noctis wakes to the sound of his own name. It’s whispered, low and needy and scared, and soon followed with a sniffle.

These ten years have paved the way for Prompto developing new habits in his absence, and Noctis knows this. Not all of them are good he’s found, such as Prompto’s newfound tendency to keep his trauma to himself. Noctis isn’t able to comfort him as much as he used to, but this seems like a perfect opportunity, especially because of his name being called.

It’s louder, now. 

“Noct…!”

Prompto’s expression is pained. His arms, lying at his sides, are eerily still.   
Noctis puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Prompto. I’m here,” he says, and it comes out sleepy, half drowned by a yawn.   
He jerks violently.

“Noctis!” He chokes out.

“Hey,” Noctis says, shaking his shoulder harder, “Prompto. It’s time to wake up.”

Prompto suddenly comes awake with a start, eyes wild and glistening. He rolls off the bed and shoots to his feet as soon as he lands, then reaches his arm to the right to summon his gun in a shimmer of magic. He gets only a couple feet before tripping on the corner of the bed and falling to his knees. The gun clatters out of his hands and across the marble floor before dematerializing, and it’s here that he takes a moment. 

Noctis watches it happen. When Prompto rears back to sit on his haunches, he says, “You done?” rather drily. 

Prompto looks at him–really looks at him–and scrunches up his face like he’s gonna cry. He doesn’t though, and instead crawls back into bed in silence. He settles on his side, away from Noctis.

“Sorry,” he mutters, and curls inward. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about,” is Noctis’s response. It’s soft, like the glow of his wedding ring in the moonlight from the window. 

“It’s been ten years,” Prompto says, “You’d think I wouldn’t still…”

“It was about him?”

Noctis hears Prompto swallow. Sees him nod.

“C'mere.”

Prompto doesn’t comply.

“Really, it’s fine, don’t worry, just go back to sleep-”

Noctis makes a  _tch_  noise. “After that? I’m pretty worried.”

Prompto gets smaller. 

“I-”

Noctis takes matters into his own hands, and turns over to spoon his husband. 

“You’ve really gotta stop forgetting I’m here.”

Prompto unfolds, a little.

“It’s not that I forget, I just…I can handle it.” His voice gets lower, “I’m not twenty anymore.”

For a split second, Noctis has half a mind to roll over and leave him alone, but doesn’t.

“Sorry,” he says, with a touch of snark, “I guess I should have just ignored you yelling my name." 

Prompto tilts his head up, and meets his eyes. "I did that?”

Noctis pulls him closer, readjusting his grip. “Yup.”

He looks down again, momentarily speechless.  

“It’s okay,” Noctis says in his silence, and presses a kiss into his hair.

Prompto starts again, quietly, “You don’t know how…well, lucky, I feel that we made it. Sometimes I’m convinced this whole thing is one of his mind games.”  
They make eye contact again. 

“Seriously?”

Prompto moans, and sits up. 

“…I don’t know. It’s pretty stupid. Still, any minute now I’m expecting to wake up to his face.” He chokes a little. “Smiling at me. Ready to hurt me more. Say you aren’t coming.”

Prompto hisses, and cradles his head in his hands. Noctis sits up to match him, and cautiously lays a hand on Prompto’s back.

“Do you want me to tell you something that only I would know?” Noctis scratches the back of his neck. “To, you know, ease your mind a little. To prove I’m real.”

“Sure,” is Prompto’s reply, a little too uncaring, “go for it.”

Noctis pauses, mulling it over. Something only he would know, something that Ardyn’s illusions couldn’t replicate, a secret, maybe…

“There was this one time,” he begins, “When you were at the Citadel with me, for my eighteenth birthday. We snuck upstairs to my room after the cake cutting, and finally beat that boss in Justice Monsters 4 that had been driving you up the wall. Remember?”

Prompto nods, and perhaps it’s Noctis’s imagination, but he might have sat up a little too. 

“Yeah, I do. Gods,” he laughs a little, “you were a lifesaver that night. I think I took you out to lunch every day the week after that.”

“Oh yeah,” Noctis crows, “greasy diner food for a week. That was worth it.”

With the grace of a skilled fighter, Prompto turns quickly to sit on his heels so he can poke Noctis in the ribs. 

“Hey! It was all I could afford at the time!”

The poking suddenly escalates into a full blown tickle fight between both of them, and by the end the two are panting, warm, tangled together and content on the shambles that was their neatly set up bed. 

“I also remember…”

Prompto looks up and meets Noctis’s eyes. “Yeah?”

“…our wedding night. We finally got away from Iggy and Gladio and got up here, and the whole night, we were both paranoid that someone in the Citadel would hear us.” Noctis shifts, and resettles again on the bed. “I can still hear you making sounds that I’ve tucked away for. Um. Future use.”

Prompto blushes, and giggles like he’s twelve again. “Nice. It’s good to know I can double as the Prince Consort,  _and_  the King’s personal stash of jack off material.”

Noctis stutters for a bit, and they both giggle before dropping the subject.   
“Feeling better?” he asks. 

Prompto curls his limbs around him, and Noctis’s left hand smooths up his back to tangle in his golden hair. 

“Yeah. Definitely.”

“Good.”

Noctis adjusts himself again, momentarily wriggling out from under Prompto so he can grab their blanket and drape it over their intertwined bodies. Prompto nuzzles into his chest, and starts to grow heavier and more relaxed when Noctis interrupts.

“Hey, wait, sorry, one more thing.” He jostles Prompto back into a semi-awake state, who pouts at Noctis through his sleepiness.

“What?”

“Even if this was an illusion, or some kind of trap set by Ardyn to lower your defenses, if he was still torturing you back there, I would come for you.”

He frees a hand up so he can brush Prompto’s bangs out of his eyes.

“I would and will  _always_  come for you. And we could build a life like this for real. Well, this  _is_  real, but…am I making sense?”

Prompto’s face erupts into a wobbly smile. He buries his face back into Noctis’s neck, and Noctis feels him nod.

“Okay. Long as you know that, I can sleep too.” He kisses his head. “Night.”


End file.
